


Two Percent

by Maldoror_Chant



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, Lime, M/M, POV Heero Yuy, Torture, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2020-04-07 06:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19079254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maldoror_Chant/pseuds/Maldoror_Chant
Summary: By Maldoror





	1. Dynamite

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).
> 
> Author: Maldoror  
> Rated R for language, mature content, lime 1x2 (I SWEAR this started out as a PG-13, I don't know how those two little hentais ran away with the plot... )  
> Disclaimer: Do you have to make me repeat it? It's bad enough I don't own them and make no money off of them and have no rights over them whatsoever, do you have to make me sing it as well?  
> AN: This is a continuation of the first arc of chapters (One Percent), but happens a month or so later.
> 
> Heero POV

My lover smells of dynamite.  
  
The chemical scent of RDX and TNT stains the air, lingering on his fingertips near my lips, as he closes on me cautiously, violet eyes incandescent in the darkness. There is only one light in the room, centred over the table where he's finished wiring the M1 packages to their fuse in record time. He told Barton we would be two hours finishing the HE for our next mission. I thought it sounded like a long time for Duo...   
  
/Hi-Ex, close proximity./  
  
I trust Duo to pack High Explosives properly, there's no danger.  
  
/Close proximity, threat./  
  
At least, not from the dynamite...   
  
"Duo." It's a warning.   
  
"Mission's tomorrow, babe. We got time."  
  
I know that. But the proximity of five pounds of death that can rip through us at twenty thousand feet per second is not helping me drop my defences. My body is poised to lash out at anything that presents itself as a target. If Duo touches me I'll go off like one of his tripwire specials.  
  
/Proximity, threat!/  
  
Duo leans towards me, still not touching. I was packing away the smaller ordnance in a box against the wall when I turned to find him hovering over me with a predatory look in his eyes which did nothing to relax me. But I'm pinned between the wall, the staircase and Duo, and I can't get out-  
  
/Reduced motility, unacceptable!/  
  
\- without brushing by him.   
  
Not that I want to.  
  
Duo's been making HE in this abandoned bomb shelter for three days now, replenishing our stocks using some pretty old and sometimes dangerous material, anything Barton could get on the black market with minimum risk. He's only allowed me to get near the place to help him this afternoon, after the most dangerous elements were already stabilized, cooked and packaged. When he wasn't working in the shelter, he was sleeping with us in the single cramped room of the small run-down shack we are sharing with Barton. There has been no opportunity for physical contact during that time, as there was always one of us listening in to OZ communications from the base we are planning to raid.   
  
Duo's been working with the raw material of death for all that time, and I know how that affects him. He needs some physical relief. I know we can't get it back at the shack... but I don't know if I can do this here either.   
  
/HE Close- Prox- Threat-!/  
  
I hiss a warning and my fist slams against the concrete base of the staircase instead of his ribs. Fortunately, Duo is very fast on his feet.   
  
I see him sniff and rub his nose with a tight grin as he backs up half a step and considers how to approach me. I don't think this is a good idea.   
  
/Mission commences in 22 hours. Analysis of status: Pilot 02./  
  
I don't want him tense and frustrated during our mission tomorrow either. It will be highly difficult and he's been on edge for too many days already.   
  
I lean slowly back against the wall, trapping my hands behind me-  
  
/Vulnerable stance, threat level too high, unacceptable!/  
  
I shift my hands slightly so they merely hug my sides, no longer pinned beneath my body. Better.  
  
/... unacceptable threat-level./  
  
Distraction. "Have you finished all we need for tomorrow?" I deliberately eye the table and the duffel bag near it.  
  
"Sure babe... " Duo knows what I'm doing. He's slid his own hands down his back more sensuously then I did- and he's standing there like a little boy trying to look innocent. He's close, close enough that I can't get by him, but not so close I feel he's threatening me, especially in that position.  
  
"Is the M1 for tomorrow?"  
  
/Completely unacceptable!/  
  
"Aaah, no babe, I wouldn't trust that stuff within half a mile of Deathscythe. It'll be to rig the shack in case Trowa needs to mosey if-... "  
  
If we are captured and he has to escape in a hurry, erasing the evidence.  
  
"What do you have for tomorrow?"  
  
"The usual, M18 on a switch for the storage unit. And some small H-6 charges on a timer in case we need a few Easter eggs. Oh and-"  
  
His eyes had been concentrating on me hungrily while he talked automatically, but suddenly he blinks and grins. "I forgot, G sent me some interesting stuff in that package the other day... "  
  
He makes a pass with his hand keeping it well clear of me- and a small inch-long tube with a pop-cap appears in it. He's wearing cut-off black shorts and a black tank-top, I don't know where he was keeping it.   
  
"What is it?" A very small charge, whatever it is, hardly justifying the excitement that glows in his eyes as he brings the small tube up to his face to look at it in the reflection of the light on the table.  
  
He tilts the tube to caress his lower lip. "Neurotoxin."  
  
"Duo!"  
  
/Danger!/  
  
"Relax, babe. It's a new compound Dr H cooked up, sent it to G as a present or something. Needs a life...Anyway, it acts on cholinesterase but it's non-competitive and reversible."  
  
"... How long till the pathways clear?"  
  
"Eight long hours of relaxing sleep."  
  
"More like paralytic coma."  
  
"Same diff, same diff. I've only got three, can't wait to try them out!"  
  
"Have they been tested-?"  
  
"Dr H wouldna let me have ‘em if they weren't, babe. He intends ‘em for civilian targets, like we might run into tomorrow. Takes them down in seconds without damage, gets ‘em out of our hair, and they wake up eight hours later with a headache looking for someone to sue. Cool, eh?"  
  
His enthusiasm, like a boy with a new toy, is relaxing me despite its odd cause. As Duo is fond of saying, we're not normal teenagers. I don't know what normal is so I will trust him on that. But whatever defuses the situation now can only be good.  
  
"Soooo... " The tube vanishes again, I try to follow it with my eyes but I'm still not sure where it goes, somewhere in his shorts I think. "Where were we... " He can feel the lessening of tension in my body.  
  
He leans forward slowly, bending at the waist, hands behind his back again. His head tilts as it reaches the level of my low-cut t-shirt. It's a very vulnerable position. I wonder how he does it. I trust him with my life but I can barely keep my hands stiff at my sides as I lean against the wall, I could never be so defenceless.  
  
/Promity... 02, no threat./  
  
He blows a gentle stream of air along the top of the cloth, teasing the skin he exposes. The caress rises, curls against my collar bone, up the hollow at the base of my throat. His hands are still behind his back, his feet together. My mind worries that he will not be able to dodge another blow, but my body is relaxing, starting to get warm in the cool dank air of the bomb shelter.  
  
/Close Proximity... 02, no threat./  
  
I feel him lick a bead of sweat that has rolled down my neck from the previous tension. The rasp of his tongue makes me twitch but nothing more.  
  
/... proximity... /  
  
The trail of the tongue cools in the air, as the rest of me slowly starts to burn. He's licking the small dip between my jaw and my ear. I can feel his breath moving my hair, whispering against my skin.  
  
/... /  
  
Finally my guard starts to drop. But I'm still tense, it's a close thing. Duo's hands finally come out from behind his back though they stay low on my body, light touches, his arms and shoulders relaxed. He can read me very well by now. The learning process was difficult and on two occasions painful, resulting in minor injury, but Duo bounced back as if nothing had happened each time, and persisted. He can now disarm me almost as quickly and as completely as one of his bombs.  
  
I breathe his name against his lips, as I can begin to participate, cautiously. My own hands reach out, gentle and hesitant, brushing his bangs away from his eyes and mine, pulling him nearer slowly. He shifts his weight, and we turn a bit so I can lean him back against the sides of the concrete staircase rising above us. This gives me the upper hand and room to manoeuvre, easing me more. He kisses me, slowly to start with then quickly more demanding as his own tension, stacking up day by day like the packages of explosives he's been preparing, pushes him forward. Our bodies rub together, his fingers are working at the hem of my jeans-  
  
CLANG! "Hey you down there?"  
  
/... !/  
  
Time crystallizes then shatters as my body convulses, shoving Duo against the staircase-  
  
Fortunately he's even faster than me, his hands flying away and flattening against the concrete, his face twisting sideways, eyes snapping shut. The body beneath mine my hands have slammed against the concrete on either side of him- is instantly as unthreatening as can be. This keeps my guard down, but only by a fraction.  
  
/... /  
  
"Barton." I manage to grind out. Duo's eyes crack open and he slips a sideways glance at me. "We're busy. What is it? Why did you leave comms?"  
  
Barton is at the door of the shelter, in the arch of thick concrete at the top of the stairs, the blue and grey light of evening washing around him. We're in deep shadow and out of his line of sight, on the side of the staircase in the small space between it and the wall. I can't see him, the walkway at the top of the stairs is hiding him from us.  
  
"I've set it recording. We've got five minutes. I wanted to know if you wanted me to relieve you."  
  
"Unnecessary."  
  
"Ok... Need a hand down there?"  
  
"No." I snap.   
  
Duo licks his lips sensuously and tilts his head. "I _guess_ we're ok, Tro... Think he could... help us here, Heero?"  
  
I give him a scowl that would have sent him running a few months ago, but now merely amuses him. "No, we're fine. Go back to comms, Barton."  
  
I see his lips shape the word ‘Spoil-sport' in the sliver of light reflected from the table lamp.  
  
"OK. Dinner'll be ready in an hour. That OK? You said you'd be finished by then, Duo."  
  
"Yeah, Tro-man, we should be done by then. Scat, will you? We're packing the ex for tomorrow, don't want to get them mixed up."  
  
"In the dark? Never mind, it's your skins. See you in an hour."  
  
"Sure thing, Tro!"  
  
The metal door closes with a clang. I feel tension still running through my body, though. Duo can feel it too, his grin fades and his eyes narrow, wondering how to get back to where we were.  
  
Then, still in the same position, he slides sideways along the concrete. His grin returns, sensuous and challenging. I take a step to keep level with him. His back is now against the metal bars of the staircase's handrail. He tosses his head so his braid coils against his chest. His grin is brighter than the lamp on the table, fracturing the darkness between us, as he slowly lifts his arms and slides them through the bars behind him. His hands twist and grab the bars, anchoring him in position. His back and shoulders flex as if he's stretching; a slender but steely chest flashes in the ghost of light as it moves towards me, my hands.   
  
"You know, babe, I've been working like a dog for the past three days, I'm bushed." His voice is a low murmur, barely stirring the thick silence of darkness and concrete around us. "Howzabout you do some of the work, hmm?"   
  
I lift my hands and bring them in a gentle glide from his face down to the hem of his shorts, then slide my hands beneath the tight material-  
  
/... /  
  
\- to rest on firm buttocks, as I lean forward and flex my hips, grinding our bodies together.  
  
"Do you mean... " I whisper, ignoring his groan, "that I should continue packing our charges for tomorrow?"  
  
"Yuy, you take one step towards those charges and I'll stomp on you. With my Gundam."  
  
"Unacceptable. We need to be both one hundred percent tomorrow." I murmur against his throat.  
  
"Well then make sure I'm nice and relaxed, willya?" He hisses, his pulse catching beneath my teeth.  
  
I lift my lips to his. He's left a trace of nitrate compound on his nose when he rubbed it, the smell prickling my nostrils. My lover, my dynamite...   
  
"Confirmed."   
  
"... man, I love it when you talk dirty... "


	2. Garrote

"Hang in there! Don't you dare d-die on me!" Duo's voice breaks in a sob as he clings to my arm, his hand on my face. "Be ok!"  
  
Don't lay it on too thick, baka.  
  
/Control... control... control... /  
  
"It's ok, kid, it doesn't look too bad."  
  
Through slitted eyelids I see Duo lift a tear-streaked face to the nurse.  
  
"You-you sure? It's just that he's not waking up!"  
  
"Here's the doctor."  
  
/Control... control... control... /  
  
"What have we got, Sid?"  
  
"Eighteen year old Hano Evans out camping with his brother. Slipped, banged his head on rocks apparently. Scalp lac, tenderness, no bone murmur... but, erm, here's his stats."  
  
A flip of chart. "... Is this right?"  
  
"Double-checked."  
  
"Is it bad?" Duo's voice quavers, as he valiantly tries to hold in more tears.  
  
/Control... control... control... /  
  
"You are-... ?"  
  
"I'm his brother."  
  
I can feel the doctor cast an incredulous eye over both our features.   
  
"Half-brother." Duo hiccups. "Same mom."  
  
"Ah, right. Where are your parents?"  
  
"I called 'em as soon as we got here, doc, but they live in Athabasca, they won't be here for ages! Tomorrow morning at least! And Hano's dad is in Japan, and he wouldn't come anyway. You-you're not going to wait for our folks to gets here before you help him, right? He's not waking up!"  
  
/Control... control... control... /  
  
"Don't worry, we'll take good care of your brother. The two of you were out camping, did you see what happened?"  
  
"We were in Mackey Forest campground, not far from here. Hano thought he heard something out in the woods, he went to check it out. I just heard him yell and a crash, and I found him against some stones. Dragged him to the car and came here, we saw this place on the way to the campsite. Erm, I don't have my drivers' license but I hadta to something..." Duo finishes in a guilty murmur. I don't see why he bothers adding this detail but I guess it's part of the role he's playing. It certainly works.  
  
"What's your name, son?"  The doctor's voice is warm and reassuring.  
  
"Donnie, Donald Evans."  
  
"Donnie, is your brother diabetic, does he have any blood disorders, or cardiovascular abnormalities?"  
  
/Control... control... control... /  
  
"N-no."  
  
"Does he, be honest here, Donnie, did your brother take anything? Drugs?"  
  
"No way, Hano's a jock!"  
  
"... Steroids? Metabol-"  
  
"No way!"  
  
I can understand their confusion, my symptoms do not fit any clear clinical picture. I can feel the doctor double checking my stats himself.  
  
/Control... control... control... /  
  
I ignore the stranger's hands on me, my control is absolute, every fiber of my body entirely in hand.  
  
"... Looks younger than eighteen... This will need butterflies... Hmm previous skull fracture here... Well, Donnie." He tries to keep the confusion out of his voice. "Your brother's banged his head and probably has concussion. There's no apparent fracture... but he's got very low heart rate and blood pressure and there's some abnormalities in his EKG."  
  
"Pupils _are_ reactive." I hear the nurse whisper. There are some things even I can't control. I can hear the doctor scratch his head again.  
  
Duo reappears in my vision. His hand is still light on my wrist, helping me and my body from reacting with a precise and deadly reflex as the orderly inserts an intravenous needle in my arm. My control doesn't need his presence, his touch, but it does help, strangely. He sniffles again. He's dressed for the part in outdoor clothes, his long hair hidden by a loose cap. There's a tear beading on his eyelash, he looks terribly young and vulnerable.   
  
We play to our strengths. In this mission there never was any question who would be the innocent waif and who would be the stiff.  
  
"We need to check his brain for bleeding ok, Donnie? Sid, order up an MRI. And er-" his voice drops "get a _full_ blood workup, ok?"  
  
/Control... success!... control... /  
  
Duo wisely waits for the doctor to exit and then convinces Sid to let him come with me, at least to the MRI control room. Sid gets a small dose of Duo's charm before succumbing.  
  
*  
My head is still spinning as I scribble a note "Taking a ten minute coffee break, use other unit"- to stick on the door. My blood is pounding in my ears now that I've stopped sending my own vital statistics plunging to the bottom of the medical charts. The cut on the back of my head courtesy of Duo's knife- is still bleeding. But my heart-rate and blood pressure are fast returning to normal.  
  
Duo raps the wall lightly with his fingernails as he comes back, an ingrained habit he's picked up when coming at me from behind.   
  
"You OK, buddy? Still looking a bit pale there. The MRI tech and Sid are now curled up together and sleeping like lil' angels. I don't think they're too badly injured."  
  
"The tech's jaw looked broken."  
  
"Only if it was glass. His own mother couldn't have punched his lights out more gently than I did. Anyway he was breathing ok. They're out of the way and I locked their door from the inside." He twirls his ceramic-alloy lockpicks in his fingers before he slips them back into his braid.   
  
It's sloppy but it's the best we can do. It should give us a few hours before they're missed enough for an alarm to go out.  
  
Duo lies down on the gurney and I slip on the tech's coat and wheel him past the next check-point, to the cardio MR unit. That's as far as we can go as civilians. We have to go the rest of the distance as terrorists. At least we're already in the basement the liquid nitrogen and huge magnets of the scanners had to be stored here, the only non-military instruments that are. Our subterfuge has gotten us past quite a few check-points already and only a few corridors away from our goal.  
  
We take the long route around to the service elevator. And run into a guard half way there.  
  
He's reading a magazine, sitting on a gurney in this little used section of the hospital basement. I don't know if this is a patrol or if he's on a break. He doesn't look like he's moving any time soon.  
  
I feel Duo move beside me as we crouch behind a bin of dirty laundry. He catches my eye, grabs his braid and unwinds the wire from the end carefully. He lifts an eyebrow at me and then glances at the guard.  
  
I scowl. The guard is not Oz or Alliance, he's part of the hospital security detail. Duo nods slightly, understanding, and hands me the wire. Then he stands and strolls over to the guard.   
  
/Risky...Preferable course of action: Elimination./  
  
The wire bites into my palm. No, not unless we have no other choice.  
  
/Reduce number of parameters. Recommend elimination!/  
  
I tense, but the guard barely glances up as Duo approaches. It takes the man a few seconds before his mind processes that the relaxed, 'Sure-I-belong-here' figure walking towards him does not, in fact, belong here. By then it's fortunately too late. A few minutes later the guard is duct-taped and in his own locked room.   
  
There are fortunately no other interruptions before we reach vent 24D near the service elevator.   
  
The military hospital we are breaking into has a zone 3 and 4 microbiology unit but fortunately that's in a separate building entirely and we don't have to go anywhere near it, to our intense relief. It also has a world-renown biochemistry lab and that's what we're hitting today. They're putting the finishing touches on a new sedative gas which can be used to subdue large crowds over vast areas with only a few side-effects. A good riot-control tool. But Romefeler is funding the research, and OZ will be using the gas in the colonies, adding it to the oxygen mix in the recycled air. A few hundred people will die from the side-effects of the gas. The others will not even notice the murder of their freedom to think freely and protest against the Alliance control of their colonies.  
  
We've already wired Duo's M18 charge to the transport tanker outside, as a message to OZ that we are not going to let them get away with this. That was the easy part. But J wants us to access the lab's computer and download all information about the gas to counter it in the future. We're trying to break into the heavily guarded military research facility underneath the hospital; this is somewhat harder than blowing up a truck.   
  
Duo and I quickly unscrew the vent. All vents in this place are too narrow even for us, to stop intruders, but they're big enough for small service robots and they're big enough for our two slim packs of explosives and weapons to be slipped down from the roof access of the vent. We've been weaponless since we lowered the packs down the vent, before a sobbing Duo took his 'brother' through the main gate's security check and metal-detectors. It's with some relief that I return my gun to the back holster of my shorts, clip four spare chargers to my belt and slip my knife in my boot. Duo goes through his explosives like a mother hen counting chicks, arms and holsters his Glock 29, straps on his spring-loaded knife-sheathe and grins at me.  
  
"Hey there, good looking, looks like we're all dolled up and ready to hit the town. Ready to rock 'em, buddy?"  
  
"Affirmative."  
  
"Let's do it then."  
  
*  
  
The biochemistry complex is under ground, deeper than the basement and not directly under the hospital. Rapelling down the shaft of the service elevator allows us to break into a maintenance conduit running above the corridor which leads to one of several entrance points. Security is good but the facility is old, and there are loopholes. One of them is up ahead.  
  
We hunch at the access panel in the side of the maintenance shaft, wires and pipes hanging around us like the veins, nerves and arteries of some gigantic organism we are invading, disease-like. I've done as much as I could with the security system from the outside, hacking in and desactivating sensor alarms in the grounds, the roof and the access tunnels, but we need to get deeper into the brain matter of the complex if we're to do any real damage. The control room on the other side of the panel is one of the nerve centers we are looking for.  
  
I reach for Duo's hand in the darkness, my movements cut in slices by the shafts of light breaking through the slits in the panel. My fingers flicker on his wrist. Three guards, two engineers. The soldiers are Alliance, the techs might be as well, or they could be civilians working for the research complex. We will kill them only if we have to. We won't have a choice with the guards. I feel Duo's fingers flick acknowledgement on my forearm. I see him twist the wire out of his braid again as I quietly screw on my silencer.  
  
A guard wanders over to the bank of monitors beneath the maintenance hatch.  
  
/Reduce number of parameters. Eliminate.../  
  
In the darkness, the wire between my lover's fingers tightens with a twang.  
  
*  
  
"How we doing, buddy?" Duo's voice is tight, as he worries at the thin line of blood that has lodged itself under his fingernails.  
  
"Nearly done. You?"  
  
"All the damage is hidden away. Well, as much as possible."  
  
"Hn."  
  
I don't worry about the men and women we have just injured or killed, they are already out of the equation, eliminated parameters. I think Duo has a harder time doing this, but he won't let it hamper his efficiency during the mission.   
  
Duo is typing into the console next to mine, downloading a couple of viruses and linking their triggers to certain diagnostic subroutines. We are not common intruders, we are the micro-organisms that are smart enough to directly attack the immune system meant to defend against them.   
  
I finish my careful disassembling of the base's defenses. Alarms are switched off, but not in any way that will be apparent to diagnostic programs or even a direct check online. Comms are now linked to the program that I have running shepherd over the alarm system. If someone triggers an alarm, the only effect it will have is to freeze open all communication devices but reroute all signals to my laptop, as well as cut camera feed. The base will be blind and deaf, that should buy us some time if- or rather, when, our activities are exposed. I fit all door codes with an override I tap the screen and Duo nods as he memorizes the code- and then clone their entire security network environment, creating a false copy of it that will hide my actions until, as Duo puts it, 'the shit hits the ventilation shaft'.  
  
/Objective achieved. Next step... /  
  
"Isolation protocols?" Duo mutters, his breath on my shoulder. I am entirely too controlled to react to his proximity aggressively.   
  
"Couldn't touch them, no time."   
  
"Great, well, at least we have an excuse to get out alive, hm?"  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Let's not get all chocked up about it though, there'll be plenty more opportunities to self-destruct in the future. I might even get you a cyanide capsule for Christmas if you behave."  
  
"For a stealth expert," I snap, as I lock out all systems in the room and head to the door, "you sure talk a lot."  
  
"For a terrorist you sure look good in spandex."  
  
"Shut up, baka."  
  
"Aye aye, sir."  
  
*  
  
We almost make it to the target lab before my communicator beeps a code, informing us that someone, somewhere, for whatever reason, has tried to activate the alarm. The lights flicker briefly as my override protocols and Duo's viruses start going into action. The base will be thrown into massive confusion at this point, all communications down, sytems offline, doors locked... and most people oblivious to the problem since the alarms haven't actually sounded. This might give us the time to complete our mission.  
  
Without a word we break into a run. The time for stealth is over, now speed and strength are the only things that will allow us to complete the mission and get out of the base alive.  
  
As I enter my override code in the lock for Biochem Lab6, the first shout echoes out behind us. The first bullet follows only a second later.


	3. Bullet

The thick explosion-proof fire-doors close behind us, blocking immediate pursuit. All the other fire-doors around the section containing our target lab are already closed, sealing it off.   
  
"That will hold them off for a little while." We're leaning back against the wall next to the door, catching our breath and eyeing the next stretch of corridor, weapons at a ready.  
  
/Thirty minutes estimated./  
  
"In that time we need to-"  
  
"You sure they won't just blow the door off with a Leo?" Duo stares at the door as if he can see a MS taking aim at it.  
  
I turn to snap at him, to remind him that our target is a lab with flammable gas and liquids in it, not something you shoot at with Leos.  
  
The bullet scythes through my hair and imbeds in the wall, sending a few metal filings showering onto my shoulder.  
  
Our two guns fire as one, and the OZ soldier, on the wrong side of a fire-door and stupid enough to take us on, is picked up and thrown back against the wall, jerking like a fish on a line.  
  
/Danger danger dange-/ Yeah, a bit late for that.  
  
"K'so." I mutter, fingering my hair. Close shave, I think, it bubbles into my mind out of nowhere. I would never dream of saying it and distracting Duo in this critical moment. Besides... There's such a grin on his face that I think _he's_ going to say it where else would I pick that up from- but there's something strange about his eyes, the fixity of his gaze, the curve of the jester's mask.  
  
"Duo?"  
  
He blinks away from the bullet hole to focus on me. His gaze doesn't have to travel far. Not far at all. I see his lips twitch as if he's trying to say something.  
  
"Come on, we're wasting time. The lab is up to the right."  
  
"... right behind you... buddy... "  
  
Still too many words where a simple silent nod would suffice. But he sounds strangely subdued. I don't have the time or inclination to figure it out.  
  
There are no more guards, it's a high risk chemical laboratory after all. The cameras and alarm-activated doors which would be the normal defenses against us are helpless and do not slow down our charge through the labs and corridors to reach the negative pressure hazmat unit.  
  
This would normally be a tense and dangerous moment. There are fifteen people in the huge sealed-off unit, working at various lab benches and isolated workstations full of dangerous chemicals. We can see them through the window of the unit's control room as we cautiously approach. They are all wearing lab coats but some of them are OZ military researchers with the know-how to be a problem even without weapons, and others are innocent civilians, working on vital medical research, even if it is funded by Romefeler. It's bad enough our raid is going to disrupt that research I can see the headlines now, but the PR disaster is inevitable in Dr J's view- it is out of the question to kill an innocent.  
  
/Unless no other alternative-/  
  
It's out of the question.  
  
The fact that none of these scientists are armed is not a guarantee this will go smoothly. There's something about getting held at gunpoint by what looks to be two teenagers that seems to rub an OZ officer the wrong way even if he's unarmed. I've had people like this try to be heroes and jump me before. I would rather it not happen today. I don't want to kill unarmed men, even OZ officers, but I don't want a fight in hazmat conditions either.  
  
Fortunately today we have an alternative.  
  
"This is where you get to play with your new toy, Duo."  
  
/Unnecessary wording of a command. Unacceptable. Concentrate./  
  
Actually, I'm trying to loosen Duo up. He still seems tense.  
  
"Sure, just let Shinigami put a little sand in their eyes!" That sounded normal enough, in terms of Duo.   
  
I hack into the hazmat unit's controls and stop ventilation out of the room, then give Duo a thumbs up. He's already cracked the simple lock keeping the hermetically-sealed door closed. At my signal he primes the cap and tosses in the neurotoxin, just as a few people look up, intrigued, at the sudden hush of the ventilation.   
  
Duo slams the door shut and glances at his watch. We wait a minute degradation in contact with oxygen is very fast- then another to be safe. Duo cracks open the door and goes in first, closing it behind him. A tense three seconds later, he's making faces at me through the control room window.  
  
One of the scientists is slumped over a terminal with an open link to the lab's server, I don't even have to hack in. Three minutes later the data is on two disks, one for each of us. I wish I could download it direct to Dr J but now our presence here is known, they'll have communication isolation protocol in place to stop just that; even a wireless modem won't cut through the scramblers. Which means either Duo or I have to get out of here and back to the Gundams, hidden nearby.  
  
/Confirmed./  
  
Now this is really going to be the hard part.   
  
The Biochem lab has a high level of isolation. Ventilation shafts are narrow and contain many hermetical seals and filters in case of contamination. There are only two ways out of the lab area, both sealed by the heavy fire-doors. From the sound of it, they're both being attacked by laser cutters.   
  
"Which do you figure, buddy? Toss a coin? I should tell you, I've never had much luck with the devil's game, as Sister Helen called gambling, so you better toss. Or I toss and we do the opposite of the throw. Or would that count-"  
  
His voice is back to being tight behind the babble, though he's hiding it well. Before our intimacy, I would not have noticed, I would just tell him to shut up.  
  
I still tell him to shut up, but now I'm concerned as well. The odds are against us but that normally stimulates Shinigami.  
  
"At this point, speed is crucial. We'll take the north exit, it's closer to our escape route. On three I open the door, you toss a flash grenade, we run out, try to make it to the control room, block the doors behind us, split and make it through the complex and the hospital and out. RV in the tunnel. Got that?"  
  
He nods, his grin huge, his eyes two dark holes in a pale face.  
  
/Status 02 Analyze./  
  
"Status?" I hiss at him as we hunker down near the door, where a slight warping of the metal shows it is under duress from the torch on the other side. When he stares at me I add: "What's wrong, Duo?"  
  
"Nothing buddy, Shinigami is ready to deal the damage!" His voice is jubilant as always, but I feel...   
  
/Status, analyze./  
  
He's unfocused. And he's distressed. Well it's not looking good but we've made it out of worse...   
  
"Duo-" If I ask him directly if he's worried,  I know how he'll react. He'll say a lot but it won't be informative, or even very polite. I can see his jaw tighten in the grin, his eyes narrow as he gets ready to snap at me in anticipation.  
  
"Duo, two weeks ago you handcuffed me to the bed."  
  
I rarely catch Duo Maxwell off guard or get to see such a look on his face.  
  
"Wh-wha-" He tries to recuperate. "Not that I don't mind some pleasant reminiscin', bab-Hee- why the _hell_ are you bringing that up?!"  
  
"You were in more danger then than you are now, and you enjoyed it. One, two-"  
  
"I-!"  
  
"Three." I punch in my override code and Duo curses as he hurtles the flash charge through the slowly opening door. He's still cursing and laughing as we burst through the dazed and blinded men guarding the equally blinded techs working on the door. One guard had been looking the other way, I shoot him in the chest before I even register that he's raising his weapon against us.   
  
I hear Duo fire a shot in another direction. I am already pounding through the hallways, getting clear of the knot of soldiers, heading for the control room.   
  
The base is completely disorganized, my hacking of the communication system has been effective. We pass people working, getting coffee, chatting or wandering around trying to figure out why all the systems have crashed. Startled looks and shouts follow us but we run by before they can react.  
  
There's a single solitary tech working frantically on the system in the control room. I cold-cock him before he can even turn around; his body rotates one hundred and eighty degrees on the swivel chair before crashing into the desk. I hear Duo's steps pounding up behind me, I hear him take a shot through the door before closing it and hitting our override code, locking it and stopping our pursuers. The control room doors are reinforced, it will take them some time to follow us.  
  
"All done, you set?" He's panting slightly as he leans over my shoulder but he's grinning in relief, the harder part is over now, as long as we can keep ahead of the pack.  
  
"Let's go." I quickly glance around the outer corridors leading out of the underground complex. "I'll take left, you go right. We meet up at the Gundams. Go!"  
  
We part without any further words, too busy thinking of blue prints and escape routes and other factors to dwell on the chances of both of us getting out alive.  
  
/Escape route alternative, analyzing./   
  
My mind is like a computer playing a grand-master level chess game, my every move thought out many turns in advance, every combination of my enemies' actions analyzed and neutralized.   
  
The cold logic carries me through two firefights, up an elevator shaft, across the grounds, over the fence and back to the forgotten pre-war tunnel in the woods where we hid our Gundams. I arrive with five minutes to spare on our timetable. I download the information into Wing and send it on a tight beam to Barton for relay before the clock runs out.  
  
/Mission objective, successful./  
  
I jump down from Wing and position myself at the old tunnel's entrance, ready for anybody who might be pursuing Duo as he makes his way back to Deathscythe.  
  
And then I wait.  
  
And wait.  
  
And wait.  
  
/Mission objective, partially compromised./

The first bullet follows only a second later.


	4. Blade

It will be a very big explosion.   
  
Wing and Deathscythe will take most of the mountain with them when they go.  
  
If they go.  
  
/Extremely undesirable outcome. Compute to avoid./  
  
I finish rigging the self-destruct sequences of both Gundams to a program on my laptop. Dr J has given me many abilities; multi-tasking is one of them. While my fingers fly over the keyboard, handling the equations of raw destruction, my mind is processing several conversations from the high-jacked comms system of the base. All comms are open but the enemy does not know this, they cannot access the feed. I can. I listen in on all their conversations, looking for the ones I need. A program switches through them on a ten-second interval. If I pick up a keyword or interesting subject I add the frequency to the jumble of others already playing in the background. They're all muddled together but my mind sorts them. The results filter through my concentration in final form.  
  
  
  
/Conversation 1 started recording at mention of ‘exodryne'./  
  
Voice #1: "Why do you want that shit for? It's on the prescribed list."  
  
Voice #2: "Never mind that, do you have any?"  
  
/... exodryne... powerful psychotropic agent, used for interrogations in cases where subject has grown habituated to normal psycho-depressants./  
  
Voice #1: "Jesus I don't know, this is a hospital, not a- just a minute, why do you need it? And what's this request for Phenorbem? We haven't used this for fifteen years."  
  
Voice #2: "This is need to know. What I can tell you is, we got this case down here. Tough one. Seems resistant to a lot of sedatives, and... other things. We need the Phenorbem to dig a bullet out of his shoulder blade. We you don't want to know why we want the exodryne glycate. Just get it down here if you have any."  
  
Voice #1: "The hospital administrator is going to ask me some awkward questions if I let you have this... "  
  
Voice #2: "You have some?"  
  
Voice #1: "Yes, for research. On rats, Jeff. On rats!"  
  
Voice #2: "Just get it down here. Refer the admin to the Colonel. Or just remind him who's footing the bill for his fancy clinical research wing."  
  
Voice #1: "... OK".  
  
  
  
/Conversation 2 started recording at mention of ‘little bastard'./  
  
Voice #1: "He's wanted for interrogation, Sarge. They can't do that if he's not stabilized."  
  
Voice #2: "But my men-"  
  
Voice #1: "We're in a hospital, Kenzy! Your men will be taken care of."  
  
Voice #2: "... good."  
  
Voice #1: "I'll put you up for a merit, Kenzy, that was a really good shot."  
  
Voice #2: "Sir?"  
  
Voice #1: "Never seen anybody move that fast, little creep was like lightning. Good thing we had him cornered. _Better_ thing you're such a crack shot, getting him in the shoulder just as he was about to turn the gun on himself."  
  
Voice #2: "... I was aiming for his head, sir."  
  
Voice #1: "... What?"  
  
Voice #2: "I was aiming for the little fucker's head. Sir."  
  
Voice #1: "Sarge-"  
  
Voice #2: "He killed Fred and Abby! And that guy from section C! And he's put at least three others in intensive care! I- "  
  
Voice #1: "Calm down, Sergeant."  
  
Voice #2: "We're still finding bodies all over the place! Him and his little friend just ripped through-"  
  
Voice #1: "Sarge-"  
  
Voice #2: "I can't believe you put him in the best IC unit! He wasn't even that badly-"  
  
Voice #1: "He's got to be OK and fast, Kenzy! But if it makes you feel any better, you did kill him with that shoulder shot and killed him hard. He's going to be tortured to within an inch of his miserable little terrorist life and if he survives he'll be hanged. Or shot. Or burned for all I care-"  
  
Voice #2: "... I wanted to... "  
  
Voice #1: "I know Sergeant, I know. Tell you what, I'll make sure you get put on execution detail if you-" voices fade out of comms range.  
  
  
  
/Conversation 3­ started recording at mention of ‘properly restrained?'./  
  
Voice #1: "Why? He's in no condition to-"  
  
Voice #2: "Just check them already!"  
  
Voice #1: "Good god, what's with-"  
  
Voice #2: "Jake, I was in the base in the Midlands they hit a few months back, they're not human. This one Chinese kid single-handedly blew up- Just check the goddamn cuffs already!"  
  
Voice #1: "Jeez keep it together. See, they're ok."  
  
Voice #2: "Good. Well, now if we can just get that sedative down here we can get the bullet out. He's stable at least."  
  
Voice #1: "He won't be if we can't get that bullet out of his subclavean."  
  
Voice #2: "I'll dig it out without sedation if he starts to crash but I'd rather not, what with the concussion. He's ok so far. Tough bastard, I'll give him that."  
  
Voice #1: "... he's very young."  
  
Voice #2: "Don't let looks fool you, Jake. This guy's killed more people than you've saved, and I think you're a damn good surgeon."  
  
Voice #1: "... Damn war."  
  
Voice #2: "Forget it, Jake. We just patch him up- ah, here's the- good god, we have to give him this?"  
  
Voice #3: "Best we can do, doc, our information on these guys say they're fairly resistant to most sedatives and analgesics."  
  
Voice #2: "But- ... oh well, his stats are excellent considering, it shouldn't hurt him. Let's get this over. What's this for?"  
  
Voice #3: "Get the nurse to hook it into his IV, then Marcus here will wheel him away. Marcus, you have a squad ready?"  
  
Voice #4: "Yessir."  
  
Voice #3: "Good, you'll take him down to the west wing, interrogation cell 3B, I think they want him there when he wakes up."  
  
/Room 3B, west wing, compute against base blue prints... localized./  
  
Voice #1: "What... what is in the IV, sir?"  
  
Voice #2: "Never mind, Jake. Jake? Jake! I need a hand here, retract this while I fix the venal walls."  
  
Voice #1: "... OK"  
  
Voice #3: "When will he be out of surgery? Doctor?"  
  
Voice #2: "Justaminute. Retract. Suction please. Jake, can you  fix that? I'll... here we go." Clink of metal into a container. "That's done. We'll close him up. I'll go with him to the west wing, make sure he's stabilized there and coming to properly... I'll stay for the interrogation as well. You'll need medical supervision with this one, trust me, especially with Phenorbem."  
  
Voice #1: "Is-Is that I mean-"  
  
Voice #2: "Stow it, Jake, and face facts. I'll meet you down there, officer. We should be there in twenty minutes or so."  
  
Voice #3: "OK, I'll see you-" I stop listening.   
  
  
  
/Compute course of action./  
  
I have thirty minutes or so to get to the designated room. Nice of them to patch Duo up for me, but with Phenorbem sedation and an exodryne drip, he's not going to be mobile.  
  
/Irrelevant./  
  
...   
  
/Mission objective requires extraction of pilot 02 from interrogation. If not mobile, elimination is the next optimal solution./  
  
I'll see what state he's in when I get there. Duo's tough and has been conditioned to resist most drugs like I have, he'll hopefully be able to move on his own fairly quickly. I hope.  
  
The self-destruct sequence is programmed. Both Gundams will blow if tampered with, or if I do not send a belay command every thirty minutes. The back door I installed into the enemy's computer system is still there, I can use their landlines to send the command. If I'm stopped, they'll have no more than two uncooperative bodies or preferably two dead bodies- and no Gundams.   
  
/Acceptable. Confirmed./  
  
I give Wing, hunched over in the tunnel, one last look and, gun in hand, run back towards the base crawling with troops.  
  
*  
  
My hacking is still in effect. They've rebooted the system twice but I'm much too good for that, I've buried subroutines in the startup that corrupts every attempt at bypassing my modifications. So far their repairs haven't even tickled Duo's viruses. The alarms are still off though most people are now aware that they have been attacked, the gas tanker blowing up was heard over the whole compound. Doors are still jammed, camera and comms are offline, the troops are in disarray. I manage to sneak into the west wing, find a computer terminal, send the belay command with four minutes to spare, then make my way down to the third sub-basement and the warren of the underground buildings to the interrogation rooms.  
  
The room is in two sections. The external room has a long table where two men are carefully going through Duo's pack. The H-6 is on one side waiting for the bomb disposal squad, his comm link is in a Faraday container for disarming and analysis, the rest is being slowly pulled apart. The other side of the room is dominated by banks of monitors, sensors and cameras in front of a one-way mirror. I can see Duo strapped to a gurney on the other side, a doctor hovering over him. There are two guards on the door leading to the interior room.   
  
I kill them first, my silenced shots ripping the air still innocent of any sirens or alarms.  
  
*  
  
The doctor cowers against the wall, he looks as if he's about to faint. I keep him there, covered by my gun, in case I need his help with Duo. I rip the IV of liquid torture out of my lover's arm and shake him carefully.  
  
"02... "  
  
He's as white as a sheet and looks even younger than his sixteen years, small against the gurney meant to restrain taller prisoners. His shoulder is bandaged and there's a lump and gash on his head beneath the hair-line. Both wounds explain how they got him alive. I twitch the sheet off his body. He's bare-chested, contusions crawling over his ribs in burgeoning bruises, and he has a bulky bandage over his calf where his black pant-legs were cut off. From the size, probably a bullet hole. Damn.  
  
"02!" I shake him harder.  
  
The doctor licks his lips. "He-he's heavily sedated, he won't come to. You should run away while-"  
  
He practically screams as Duo's hand shoots up towards my face, arrested with a crash as the cuffs restrain him to the gurney.  
  
Duo starts to twist and snarl, fighting his restraints.  
  
"Du- 02! It's me! 01!" I grab his good shoulder, then his face, gun still on the doctor. I have to get through to him before he does any damage to himself.  
  
"Duo!" I hiss near his ear, hoping he won't bite me. His eyes are unfocused but he blinks rapidly, and his struggles fade.  
  
"Hee-" I put my fingers on his lips. He wrenches away on instinct, but I got through to him.   
  
"02, I'm going to release your cuffs, OK? You awake? Lucid?"  
  
"Errr-" he whispers, licking cracked and bruised lips. He's not too badly beaten up, considering. We've both been a lot worse on former captures. Someone with a cool head must have intervened with the troops once he went down with the bullet in the shoulder and the crack over the head.  
  
"Wh-what happened, where are we?" His voice is less than a whisper.   
  
"Just a minute." I take two steps towards the doctor he whinnies in fear and shoves himself back against the wall- and slam my fist into the side of his head. He goes down with a grunt.  
  
"It's ok, situation secured. For now." I fish Duo's lock picks from his hair and struggle over the cuffs for a minute. He groans with pain as I release one cuff, and grabs his shoulder. His hand is trembling badly, in fact his whole body is shaking convulsively. I remember a few particulars about the drugs he's been given and scowl.   
  
He's not going to be able to walk.   
  
/ Mission objective-/  
  
But he can try. I can carry him part of the distance, get us out of here to start with...   
  
/Not recommended./  
  
But it will have to do, for now.  
  
"Wh-" Duo gasps as I haul him up without warning, it turns into a cry of pain as I jog his shoulder. I grab him around the waist and hold him up as I drag him out the door.  
  
"I suggest you recover fast." I snap. "We have to get out of here rapidly. If you can't follow, I will have to leave you behind." It goes without saying that I won't leave him alive. Duo groans, in pain and acknowledgement.  
  
I leave him setting the timers on the H-6 charges to cover our tracks and cause a distraction while I quickly scout out the corridors ahead. I can't come back the way I came in, I left a couple of unconscious or dead guards behind, someone might have found them and brought in reinforcements. Blue-prints flash through my mind. If we forge on ahead, we can reach the colonel's office in the administration quarters I'm pretty sure they'll be empty at this time of night and in the middle of a crisis- and I can use his computer connection to send the next belay command. In the next fifteen minutes. Or no more Gundams. I growl under my breath and sprint back to room 3B.   
  
*  
  
"I can't believe you did that!" Duo squeaks.  
  
"It is unacceptable for our Gundams to fall into enemy hands."  
  
"But-" Duo looks like he's about to be sick. He's more affected by the possibility of Deathscythe's destruction than his own.  
  
/Logical. Pilot replaceable, Gundam irreplaceable./  
  
My fingers fly over the code, hit the enter button. My mouth is as dry as sawdust; there had been about two minutes and a half to spare.  
  
Thirty minutes now till the next belay command.  
  
/Check./  
  
The Colonel's office contains a camp bed for late night work; I tossed Duo on it before turning on his computer and sending the belay command. The room is high up on the second floor and in the back of the admin building's huge lobby. There are three soldiers on guard on the ground floor of the lobby, twenty meters away, talking in hushed tones amongst themselves. I give them a careful glance through the colonel's window. All the building's exits towards the elevators go through those men. I can take them out, but there are patrols all over the building, if they hear a single shot... It's going to be hard enough to make it through the patrols as it is.  
  
I glance at Duo. He's pale and shaking, and rubbing his legs as if trying to massage feeling back into them. He's not yet able to walk, and the fits of shaking have gotten worse.  
  
"Heero... "  
  
He stops rubbing his legs, leans back against the wall. I know what he's going to say. He blinks rapidly, trying to focus, but his voice is quite firm.  
  
"Buddy, the next time you enter that code, you're doing it from Wing's cockpit, ok?"  
  
/ Analysis originating 02: confirmed./  
  
I grunt and turn to watch the lobby below us. The men show no sign of leaving. They might when the bombs near the interrogation room go off. But maybe not.  
  
"Things are going to get hot and nasty." Duo mutters as if following my thoughts.  
  
/Confirm./  
  
"Hn." I check my gun automatically then re-holster it. Nine minutes before the timer on the H-6 charges runs out, and distracts those guards. Twenty eight before I need to re-enter the belay code on a computer with a privileged link to the landlines, and there aren't many of those in the base.  
  
"Heero?" The tone is sharp, through the pain and drugs.   
  
"I am still going through our escape parameters." I answer his unasked question. The equation is proving intractable.   
  
/Reduce number of parameters./  
  
The gun at my back seems to burn.  
  
No.  
  
/Yes./  
  
Who would pilot Deathscythe? Eliminating Duo would mean destroying his Gundam.  
  
/... Confirm. Recalculate parameters./  
  
"What's there to go through?" Duo snaps, his teeth shattering, keeping his voice low.  "I can't walk, I'm practically having seizures, I don't think you can carry me that fast that far, not without getting shot. Heero. You... you have to do this."  
  
/Confirm!/ No.  
  
"I am going through escape options. Shut up."  
  
/Analysing... /  
  
"... s'ok babe."  
  
/Warning!/  
  
My fist crashes against his. The blade flies away as it bites into his chest. I backhand him across the bunk. The knife hits the floor across the room and slides away with a clatter and skittering noise. I‘m quickly back against the wall in a silent crouch and I glance out the window at the soldiers outside.  
  
One of them looks around vaguely but otherwise they do not react.  
  
I glare back at Duo who is struggling up from the bunk, shaking his head dazedly and putting a tentative hand to his jaw. Purple eyes slowly lift to glower at me, his entire body radiates tension even as it shakes. I won't catch him off guard again.  
  
"What the hell do you think you are doing, pilot?" He snarls, shoving himself up fully. He immediately goes pale and starts shaking again, gripping his shoulder.  
  
"I told you-"   
  
Seven minutes for the H-6 and twenty six minutes for the self-destruct command.  
  
And Duo-... No use. I've pressed the button myself, so I know he will try to do it again at the first opportunity.  
  
/Reduce parameters./  
  
No.  
  
"Heero!" His voice is a distraction.  
  
/Objective must be attained./   
  
The alternative is to lose a pilot and a Gundam.  
  
Escape parameters- how far-   
  
If he tries to kill himself while we're escaping he might get me killed as well.  
  
Six minutes and twenty five minutes.  
  
 "Heero goddamit!"  
  
Two Gundams out of the war effort, and the data possibly lost, if Barton didn't receive it...   
  
/Mission cannot fail! Reduce parameters now!/  
  
... OK.  
  
His eyes are on my face, I think he sees what he wants there.  
  
"Very well." I give the guards one last glance, then turn and walk towards him. I know what I must do.   
  
"We have fives minutes or so before the bombs explode and I have to go." I say as I stand above him. He gives me an uncertain look then glances towards the knife in the corner.  
  
"Wh-"  
  
"If you wish for any last physical contact, you have five minutes." I glance at my watch. It's not like I can do anything before the bombs blow.  
  
/Acceptable./  
  
His lips move in shock. "I- uh,... "  
  
"If you wish this of course."  
  
"What- What did you have in mind? Five minutes is a bit short even for a quickie, lover."  
  
"It's up to you, but you're probably right. A more limited form of contact might be better. Four and a half-"  
  
"Won't have time to do this proper-" Duo hisses, scrabbling off the bunk and clinging to me for support. "Try not to deck me, babe. I've had a rough day."  
  
/Proximity no threat./  
  
Definitely no threat, he can barely stand, but his hands are surprisingly strong as they grip my upper arms as low as they can go while still supporting him. I grab him by the waist and he sags against me gratefully.  
  
"Always knew... you were a hopeless romantic, Yuy... " His lips brush against mine, there is so little time to quiet my reflexes, he's going to keep it simple.  
  
"If you're going to, do it like you mean it, Duo." I snap, and he blinks in surprise. Suddenly his eyes water. I check my hold on his waist, making sure that I am not hurting him. I don't seem to be.  
  
"I-" Three minutes.  
  
The kiss starts slow, caressing-  
  
/Proximity- distraction-/  
  
\- then deepens, suddenly aching with passion. I feel my body respond, but his hands on my arms are so light, it's my hold on his waist all that's keeping him up.  
  
/... threat... distraction... /   
  
But there's still a few more minutes.  
  
/... /  
  
Duo slips inside my defences, my conditioning temporarily subdued. He's not taken much time in the approach but we've been intimate long enough for that little to suffice. He can feel it, his good arm slides up to my shoulder, his hand cups my face, brushes my jaw...   
  
/... /  
  
Now.  
  
One arm around his waist to hold him to me, the other hand lingers up his body, caressing his chest, his throat, his face where I can feel a tear streak, then slides down to the neck.  
  
Duo stiffens instinctively, hand darting to a lost weapon, as my fingers put growing pressure on his internal carotid artery. Then he relaxes, accepting.   
  
Lips move against mine as the pressure grows. One second, two. Three.  
  
"Thanks babe."  
  
Four. Five.  
  
"Love y... "   
  
He's slipping away from me, it will take thirty second before the damage is irreversible. There's a smile on his lips as his head slips against my shoulder, it's not the worst of silent deaths.  
  
/... /  
  
Seven.  
  
Eight.


	5. Countdown

Seven.  
  
Eight.  
  
I glance at my watch as I also count seconds. Thirty second before the H-6 charges blow.  
  
Ten.  
  
Stop.  
  
/... /.  
  
I check Duo's pupils, his pulse, satisfactory. He will come to in about twenty minutes, I estimate. I will reapply pressure in the meantime, but I have to be careful. The drugs might make permanent brain damage more likely.  
  
/... ?/  
  
I take a deep breath.  
  
Mission. Primary mission partially successful.   
  
Mission. Primary objective modified. Extract data, pilots 01 and 02 from situation.   
  
/!!!/  
  
Fallback objective. Eliminate 02, escape alone with data, destroy Gundam Deathscythe.  
  
/... /  
  
But failure at primary objective is to be avoided at all cost.  
  
/... Confirmed./  
  
The bombs blow, a distant rumble. The first instant of the blast makes the guards jump, my bullets take them in mid-surprise, and the muted gunshots, the crumpling of their bodies and the clash of their weapons hitting the metal floor are covered by the dying echoes of the explosion.  
  
I gather up Duo, fling him over one shoulder and, gun drawn, start running towards the service elevator.  
  
/Timing on self-destruct devices sixteen minutes./  
  
Blueprints flash through my mind. The accountant's office is near the elevator. I will reach it with nearly ten minutes to spare if there is no interference; I will be able to see if I can access his terminal, he has a privileged connection. If not I still have time to complete the fallback objectives, climb up the elevator shaft to the ground-level complex by myself and hack into the landline through the network hub in the service conduit nearby to set the delay again.   
  
By then the base will be going into lockdown mode, despite the hacking, so I will have to accomplish part one of the fallback objectives before I climb the shaft; there are too many chances in coming back down it for Duo.  
  
/Confirmed./  
  
I grunt as I shift Duo's weight. He's gained a few pounds of muscle since he's been training and sparring with me. His braid hits and twists around the ankles of my boots.  
  
I hope the accountant has an accessible terminal.  
  
*  
  
I can feel seconds hissing past me like tracer fire as I hammer codes into the accountant's computer. Someone smart has finally reacted at the mainframe level and has started disabling my hack. Fortunately he's working on damage control, he's still far from locking out my backdoors and overrides. The viruses are hampering his efforts as well.   
  
But I have a feeling that next time I enter that code, I will be blocked unless I do it from my own system, which is in Wing's cockpit, which is a very long distance away.  
  
The self-destruct is once more reset, but I can't relax. Plans and blue-prints flash through my mind, but even my superior tactical training is finding it hard coming up with many options now.  
  
I check Duo. Pupils good, pulse strong. He's starting to stir.  
  
I put pressure on the artery again, the blood squirms beneath my fingers before I cut off the flow.  
  
... Nine, ten.   
  
Ok that's enough.  
  
Eleven.  
  
I try to loosen my fingers.  
  
Thirteen.  
  
/Neutralize - reduce parameters-/  
  
Primary mission! Fifteen, sixte-  
  
/Elimin-... primary mission... /  
  
I tear my fingers away. Air burns my lungs as I gasp and teeter to the door on legs that are suddenly shaking. I check the hallway outside, still empty. My vision is blurring...   
  
/Unacceptable!/   
  
I grab control of my own functions and steady them, wasting a few precious seconds as I slow my heart-rate and breathing. My centre is more elusive.   
  
This is no good.  
  
I find I've taken two steps back to Duo. With my hand on my gun.  
  
We can still make it out alive!  
  
/Probability will not compute though./  
  
Probability may not compute but it's getting lower the longer I try to-!  
  
Stop.  
  
The chances are already stacked against us. Carrying an unconscious Duo is only slightly better than a seizing and suicidal one. If I add my own indecision to the mix we're both dead.  
  
In that instance of clarity I take the decision.   
  
I have to use one of the weapons Dr J implanted in my head. I'm putting myself at risk, but if that's what it takes to get both Gundams and both pilots, however damaged, out at the end of the next twenty-seven minutes that is acceptable.  
  
/!!?/  
  
/Basis of this decision? Reducing variables and using fallback objective would be-/  
  
I've already decided. Code: Lockdown.  
  
/*Code: Lockdown. Heart-rate increase 25%, respiration increase 15%, blood-pressure increase 20%, adrenaline increase, epinephrine increase, endorphin stabilisation.*/  
  
I grab Duo and heft him up without feeling his weight. I slide out of the door, gun ready, but the corridors are still empty. My opponents are fanning out from the interrogation room, and blocking my entrance route. I can see them as if they were slowly moving chess pieces on a board. They have not yet computed the possible exit routes though. I do. We have a chance. The corridor is haloed in cold clarity as I sprint down it effortlessly.  
  
/*Twenty-six minutes*/  
  
I haul Duo up the elevator shaft, the rope from my pack rasping against the metal edge. I'm back on ground level now, but the clatter of boots on concrete echo like gunfire outside. I grip my weapon. My mind calculates just how many of them I can fight/kill before I am delayed too long. Not enough. I have to get out without a fire fight.   
  
/*Twenty minutes*/  
  
I leave one of the last two H-6 charges in the elevator shaft on a five minute delay and drag Duo to a window. It's locked with a steel frame. I rip it open like paper. I throw Duo through and crawl out carefully, we are hidden from view by a military truck just outside.   
  
/*Fifteen minutes*/  
  
The H-6 goes, sweeping the building's core with fire from basement to roof. The men at the small northern checkpoint are distracted by the explosion. Fatally. My bullets take each of them down precisely, one shot apiece. Two of them have time to return fire. I barely note the damage to my upper arm before they go down. I'm still functional. I feel no pain.    
  
/*Thirteen minutes*/  
  
I gun the truck through the checkpoint and point it towards the tunnel. It will take them a few minutes to realize the checkpoint guards are no longer responding. Duo is tossed around the back of the truck as I jump the curb and head towards the forest road. I should make it in less than ten minutes. The Gundams are less than a minute inside the tunnel.   
  
/*Eleven minutes*/  
  
I feel no panic at the closeness of the call, I merely start computing all parameters I can possibly put into play to reduce the time it takes me to get to Wing.  
  
/*One minute ten seconds*/  
  
Duo slips from my shoulder with a thump and I run towards Wing. I hit the button on the pulley lift, then climb up the rope hand over hand as it starts to pull me up towards the cockpit. My fingers are a blur on the keypad as I enter in the complex code I know better than my own code name.   
  
/*Twenty seconds*/  
  
The cockpit hisses open, I squirm inside, bruising my ribs. I hurl myself over to the open laptop, my fingers precise as I call up the program-  
  
/*Sixteen seconds*/  
  
\- and input the cancellation code.  
  
/*Fourteen seconds*/  
  
/*Fourteen seconds*/  
  
/*Fourteen seconds*/  
  
I run a quick check to make sure the program is not lying to me, and, when the self-destruction abort command is confirmed, slowly collapse to my knees, panting.  
  
/*... ?-/ No, not now, I need to get us out of here first. I burn some more adrenaline and keep myself in lockdown mode by sheer willpower.  
  
I slip my foot in the lift's stirrup, hit the down button, and jump half-way to the ground, landing in a crouch on the old cracked concrete of the disused tunnel. I run to where I'd let Duo drop, a few meters away from Deathscythe.   
  
"Duo, wake up!"  
  
I don't have perimeter alarms or anything, soldiers could be on my tracks and closing even now. My gun is already in my hand, covering the tunnel entrance.  
  
"Duo!" I give him a rough shake and he groans, his eyelids fluttering.   
  
I slap him. "Wake up, pilot! We have to get the Gundams out of here!"  
  
"... scythe... " his lips barely move. Knocking him out twice has added to the effect of the drug load in his system, and his shoulder is bleeding again, he's worst off than before.  
  
"Duo, it's Heero." I snap, as I haul him up by the waist and drag him towards Deathscythe, gun still swinging towards the faint streak of light that is the beginning of dawn beyond the tunnel entrance. "We're going up to Deathscythe's cockpit. We are in a hostile situation, we are going to extract our Gundams from it now. I'm taking the lift to your cabin, hold on." He's only half-conscious but I keep talking. Duo's in a great deal of pain, drugged, and a killer with deadly reflexes, that's not a good combination. I don't have time to take precautions while handling him, I have to hope that the sound of my voice and the presence of his Gundam will stop him from injuring me if he wakes up too suddenly.  
  
"H'ro?" I can feel him mutter against my chest as I enter his code into Deathscythe's lock.  
  
"Yes, Duo. Wake up. We need to get going."  
  
I can feel him revive slightly at the familiar hydraulic hiss of the opening cockpit. I sling him down into the command chair and his hands are on the controls before his eyes are even fully open.  
  
"Wh-what- how did we-"  
  
"Later!" I snap. "Are you lucid? We need to extract now!"  
  
He blinks at me, his body is starting to shake again. The hands on Deathscythe's commands are as firm and solid as gundanium.   
  
"Duo, we have to get out of the tunnel and through the woods. Once we're clear, I'll assume jet position, you hook your Gundam to the handles and we'll pull out." I don't think he's going to stay conscious all the way to the safe-house.  
  
"Enemy air resistance?" Duo asks automatically, while his fingers start the boot-up sequence without any conscious input from his fogged mind.  
  
My mind computes probabilities with the cold clarity of a scalpel. If they've re-established comms at the hospital complex then we might be met by a fleet of Leos and Virgos or dolls in the next ten minutes.   
  
"Unknown. I'll check. I'll take on anything that shows up, you just get Deathscythe out of here and hooked to Wing." Which will reduce our fighting capacity considerably. If need be I can fly low, dump Deathscythe and clean up the opposition.   
  
Back in Wing's cockpit I open the commlink to Deathscythe and bully and badger Duo into getting his Gundam out of the tunnel. He's OK while we make our way through the woods, but I can feel that he's hanging on with all that he's got.   
  
So am I.  
  
Wing takes off, curves back while folding into jet position, and Deathscythe nearly misses its grab as I pass over him low. Still, he makes it, latching on to the handles we've installed below Wing for just such an emergency extraction of another Gundam. Wing and I automatically compensate for the extra weight and drag, while my fingers and part of my mind are analysing data from my laptop and onboard computer.  
  
"The comms are still down in the base." I am too remote for relief. "There is no enemy air resistance. Enemy activity on the route to safe-house: null."  
  
"Oh good." And there's a small thunk.  
  
"Duo?"   
  
No answer.  
  
"02, status?"  
  
No answer. He's passed out again.   
  
My hands slow as I verify the computer readout again, re-check the data.  
  
I glance towards the unengaged Zero system which would make the task easier, but...   
  
But considering what is coming, that could be very dangerous...   
  
I'll only need the zero system if enemy aircraft are spotted. I input the appropriate alarm programs. I realize my hands are trembling.  
  
"Duo?" I don't know why I say that, but suddenly I feel the need to hear his voice. I don't hear an answer but then my blood is starting to ring a steady pulsing beat in my ears, drowning out even Wing's comforting engine roar...   
  
My hands are shaking as I lock in auto-pilot, set up more alarms, try to remember what else-  
  
Suddenly I'm dropping like a rock from the edge of the world.  
  
/**********!!!/  
  
I gasp as I instinctively check my stabilisers, then I wrench my hands off of the controls. Mustn't interfere. Wing is OK, he'll take us-  
  
/$£$$?###################!/  
  
-"take us back to the safe-house, the alarms-" I gasp as my muscles clench. "The alarms are set for enemy movements."  
  
/**Confirmed$££./  
  
"I extracted both pilots and both Gundams."  
  
/&&&Probability of success uncalculated. Unacceptable!!/  
  
"Destroying Deathscythe also unacceptable!" My teeth catch on my lip and I taste blood though I feel no pain. My whole body is numb. The double-shock of losing lockdown mode and regaining my conditioning is sending me over a dangerous edge.  
  
/Does not compute! *****/  
  
"I got us both out!"  
  
/Unacceptable risk to Gundam! Compromising mission!/  
  
"Mission successful." My voice claws its way back from the edge, but the mental turmoil is not done with me yet. I clutch the disk of data in my pocket but it's not enough.  
  
/Risk was unacceptable!/  
  
"Risk wasn't computed."  
  
/Risk not computed -Unacceptable!/  
  
"If I'd computed the risk I wouldn't have had time to extract us."  I bite out, angered by the catch once more.  
  
/Unacceptable!/  
  
"I didn't have the data to calculate the risk anyway." I know this will probably only make it worse, but it's the truth. "Too many variables. I opted for-"   
  
My skull crashes back against the command chair's head-rest as my muscles seize, in tactile memory of the agony of my training sessions which feel close to unravelling.  
  
/Unacceptable decision!/  
  
"Extraction of Gundams-" I choke.  
  
/No! Should have eliminated variable in equation! Illogical decision!/  
  
"I judged the situation-"  
  
/Secondary opinion negative as well!/  
  
"Duo... " I mutter with a groan, remembering the flash of light on a twisting, turning blade. He had been pretty sure of what the risk was... Deadly sure. My mind feels like it's on fire, a roaring flame crackling in my ears, charring my skin, burning the world.  
  
/Unacceptable compromising of mission./ Facts and habits crash into me mercilessly.  
  
"I thought-" it escapes me without volition. Damn. "I thought I could make it. Duo could have been wrong."   
  
/No data! Elimination of variables should have insued./  
  
"I'm not giving up on Deathscythe." Or Duo, though that had been only a minor consideration in the whole. Hadn't it? A feeling of slowly rising panic chokes me.  
  
The pain and stress of my body climbing down from the fighting edge to which I had forced it in lockdown mode cannot begin to distract me from the chaos in my mind as my conditioning tries to ascertain the extent of its failure. Had I misjudged the situation? Had I taken an unaceptable risk, compromising the mission? Had Duo played any part in it?  
  
Yes to that last at least. I respect Duo and his opinion. His quick intuition allows him to grasp a situation before I can compute it sometimes.   
  
And Duo had tried to self-destruct.  
  
The enormity of life-loving Duo trying to shove a blade between his ribs rather than let me try to get us both out alive is shattering.   
  
My mind is racked as parameters and decisions are caught and dissected, split apart and analysed down to the component atom. Through the ringing in my ears I can hear my voice continue to whisper argument and counter-argument, as if saying it out loud can fasten down the spinning tails of my self-control.  
  
But when it came down to it, I had taken a decision on insufficient data, and actually my body thrashes, my grip convulses on the chair's armrests- broken my own conditioning, first by getting Duo to take down my defences, then with the panic mode, to take a decision that every aspect of my training should have countered. But I _had_ succeeded. Luck had played a part but still I had-  
  
The inescapable conclusion drags itself out of the depths of my mind.  
  
"I don't know. I can't compute how likely this successful outcome was. How can I resolve this when I don't have the data to resolve this?"   
  
/Third opinion necessary./  
  
I know what that means. A spike of associative fear and pain slams through me, my body shakes. But that's nothing, my emotions are such a minor part of my decision process that they will not affect me.  
  
"I cannot analyse this. I cannot tell if my judgement was at fault. Impartial analysis of my actions by a third party is needed." My whisper confirms my decision, stabilising me. My fingers reach for the laptop, compute what I need for the trip I must take.  
  
/Acceptable./  
  
My mind calms now that I have a decision, an anchor. The situation _will_ be resolved.  
  
"That will take Wing out of combat for a month. At least."  That's the only negative aspect of this plan I can see.  
  
/Acceptable. Pilot performance cannot be compromised./  
  
"If pilot judgement was at fault, retraining must be undertaken to rectify failure." Like last time... my mind shies away from that. I'd rather contemplate the pain that awaits me at Dr J's hands than remember the cause of my last retraining. At least this time, no innocent died. But I have to be able to trust myself. Or someone will.  
  
One of my alarms chirps.  
  
The world immediately refocuses, and I'm once again behind Wing's controls. My body is trembling slightly and I'm covered in sweat, but my mind is clear.  
  
It's the safe-house beacon. We made it.  
  
/Confirmed. Analyse and compute next moves./  
  
While my mind sets up a list of tasks I must accomplish before I can leave again, my fingers fly over the controls.  
  
"Duo?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Pilot 02, respond."  
  
I hear a sigh, ending in a groan.   
  
"Pilot 02, respond, we are approaching the safe-house, we need to disconnect our Gundams."  
  
"... why, ‘think ‘scythe likes havin' Wing by the short handles... "  
  
I frown at the commslink. "02, are you lucid?" It certainly doesn't sound like it, but then again this _is_ Duo.  
  
"Yeah yeah, I'm awake, Mom. Can I have pancakes for breakfast?"  
  
"02, say my name and state your status. Now."  
  
Duo sighs over the commlink. "I'm up, Heero. Glad to see you still can't take a joke. Did we make it? Stupid question, we're not smeared over the countryside I see. Are we there yet?" His voice sounds weak but I think he's not delirious.  
  
"Yes. Are you capable of disconnecting?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"OK, from my count. Five, four, three, two,-"  
  
"Bombs away." Duo mutters and I compensate for the shift of weight as Deathscythe drops to the ground and makes his way to the prepared clearing full of camouflage tents.  
  
I bring Wing down quickly besides Deathscythe. We are near the cabin where we no, where Duo will recuperate. There's a radar alarm in it, I need to set it and link it to his comm frequency, I'm not sure he can do all this himself for awhile. Should I wait until tomorrow until Barton rejoins us?  
  
/Negative. Efficiency potentially compromised. Must rectify./  
  
Besides, I think Duo is going to be difficult about this, and possibly Barton will as well.   
  
I jump down from Wing's cockpit. Deathscythe is still closed, though I hear Duo stirring over the comms. I'll have to get him out of there, I don't know if he can make his own way down, but security measures first.  
  
The cabin is small, much like the one we left behind only hours ago, but at least it has two beds in it and they look acceptably clean. The radar is already set up and calibrated, Winner is efficient that way. I know that he will also have provided food and water, fuel for the generator, and a fully furnished medical kit which Duo will require. Barton should be here soon enough to help him from there on. I do what I need to do with the radar skies still clear, apparently we got away clean- check the place over for bugs or interference, then head back to the Gundams. I clamber up and pull the camo over Deathscythe. I do as good a job as I can alone; my arm is starting to ache, the bullet wound is bleeding and needs stitches. When Barton lands Heavyarms tomorrow he can check the camo, it should be safe until then. And I can take care of my arm on the trip. I drop to the cockpit.  
  
I stare blankly at the empty command chair for a few seconds, adrenaline creeping up my veins again.  
  
"Duo? Duo, respond. Where are you?"  
  
I glance around from the cockpit's platform. There. A small figure dressed in black and bruises, crumpled on the ground near Wing. He must have woken confused and gone to fetch me. Baka, why didn't he just use the comms? He must not be as lucid as I thought, now that he's no longer behind Deathscythe's controls.   
  
He's stirring as I approach, struggling up on his elbows.  
  
"... there you are... thought Wing had swallowed you whole... you OK?"  
  
"Functional. You?"   
  
"Hmm, I'm alive, and in the kind of mental space where I'm rather regrettin' it. What happened, did the whole OZ base take turns jumping up and down on me?"  
  
"Actually you are fairly intact, considering." I haul him up by the waist, his good arm over my shoulder, instinctively checking my reactions to another's proximity. At least that much of my control remains. "Come on, I'll take you to the cabin."  
  
"Oh joy, another happy camper ad. When can we stay at the Ritz?"   
  
"Never."  
  
"Thas' pity cause I hear their penthouse suite is a real hit. You know, I bet Khushrenada stays in the penthouse suite every time. You know how many times Treize stayed in mouldy old cabins the last year we've been fighting him? ‘bout as many times as we've stayed at the Ritz-" I tune him out, my mind on flight paths, avoiding enemy contact and the best way to L1 and Dr J's new hide-out.  
  
I drop Duo down on the bed and turn towards the door.  
  
"Where are you going?"   
  
I glance back. Duo is looking at me through his bangs. He's got the merry jester smile on his face, his eyes are like purple glass. It's a strange question; even if I were staying I would have a lot of things to do.   
  
"I have a mission. I have to leave right away. Barton will be here tomorrow afternoon, you should be able to manage in the meantime."  
  
"Oh, a mission, hmm? When did this happen?"  
  
"It derived from our previous mission. It does not concern you. You can't help me with it."  
  
"Oh you sure about that? What's it about? Where are you going?"  
  
"I don't need to tell you that."  
  
"Well no, but we're partners so it kind of expected, normally." Duo's voice is his usual casual lilt. His smile is jagged.  "Gonna be gone long?"  
  
"Yes." I say shortly and close the door. In his condition, he won't follow me.  
  
I'm halfway to Wing before my commlink crackles on.  
  
"You know Heero, if something's bugging you, we could talk about it."  
  
I feel a bit cold. Was my control so weakened that Duo realized something was wrong? Maybe I'm beyond repair...   
  
/Irrelevant./  
  
No matter. Really, no matter. I don't care what happens to me. And as for Duo... Deep down within me I guess I feel a small measure of sadness but little else, even though I realize that when I return if I return- I will probably not be able, mentally or physically, to continue our relationship on it's present footing. I doubt I will wish it after retraining. If Dr J determines that Duo is in any way at the root of my problems, then I will probably be ordered to never associate with him again anyway.  
  
/Acceptable solution./  
  
I accept that. Duo's presence and our relationship has made me, if anything, more efficient in a lot of domains, particularly in understanding the way people think and behave. But if this compromises efficiency I can do without.  
  
"Heero, babe... Why do I get the impression you're not telling me something?"  
  
I frown. He never calls me pet names over comms, or when not in intimate contact. But he doesn't sound upset, either. I'm not sure what he sounds like. Apparently my ‘improved' understanding of people and the way they think and behave is far from all that good yet.  
  
/Irrelevant./  
  
I reach Wing and put my foot in the stirrup of the lift.   
  
"Heero, can you come back here, please? We need to discuss this."  
  
I hit the up button. "There's nothing to discuss, Duo. There is something I need to do."  
  
I switch the commlink off as I reach the cockpit. As I settle inside, the monitor in Wing turns on I'd forgotten to switch the link off I realize- and a visual of Duo, in front of the cabin's comm equipment, appears. He's looking at his watch, of all things. He doesn't look upset, though his jaw is firm. His eyes flick to mine as he lowers his wrist.  
  
"I think there _is_ somethin' to discuss, but I don't think you're willin' to. I'll just have to make you."  
  
My hand hovers over the interrupt button but somehow... this is the last time I'll see him, probably. I'm somewhat curious to know what he means by that.  
  
"Duo, you can't stop me. This communication will end in a few seconds. In the state you're in, you can't even make it to Wing."  
  
"Tell me about it." He grumbles, glancing at his watch again. My fingers prep the startup sequence. "It nearly killed me getting up to Wing's cockpit the first time, I'm not risking a second go just to wrestle you out."  
  
"I'm glad you're seeing sense, Duo." I look at the image one last time, reach to switch it off. "I'm leaving now. I hope-" Something about his last sentence didn't sound right.   
  
/?/  
  
"What do you mean, ‘first time'?"  
  
"Five, babe."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Three, two, one."  
  
There's a small ‘pop' sound behind me, one that is not part of the warmup routine of the engines. I glance around-  
  
-my body jerks and drops like a puppet with strings cut, my nose, eyes and throat burn, my mind spirals into darkness.   
  
Just as consciousness fades, I see the source of the sound, a small innocent looking tube attached to a timer and a tripwire, hooked to the command chair. The popcap has blown off...   
  
*   
  
I blink at the unknown ceiling above me. This in itself is not surprising, I've never stayed anywhere long enough for anything to become familiar.   
  
The ache in my muscles and my head are not something I'm used to though.  
  
/Analyse situation... /  
  
I turn my head slowly, trying to see where I am.  
  
Across the room is another bed. Duo is sleeping in it, face pale, shoulder bandaged-  
  
/!/  
  
It all comes back in a rush, and I jerk towards him in fury.  
  
I'm brought up sharply by chains around my wrists. He's I can't believe this, he's gassed me and chained me to the bed!  
  
The clink of the thick chains the kind we use to harness loads into our Gundams, not the kind I can snap with a stretch of muscle- wakes Duo. He glances across at me, rubs his face and glances at his watch again.   
  
"Five hours. Fuck, Yuy, you sure you're human?"  
  
"Have you gone insane?"  
  
"Good question. Well, to cut a lot of explainin' and recriminatin' short, no, I'm not the one who's gone insane, or at least, I'm not the one arguing with myself all the way to the safe-house. Does that answer the next few questions you were going to ask?"  
  
"How- how did you-"  
  
"You forgot to turn your comms off in Wing on the way back. And I may pass out from time to time but I get better real fast. I tried to cut into the fight a couple of times but no one was listening to me."  
  
"You-" I glare at him, but I can feel that he's relieved me of my gun and other weapons. I jerk at the chains. The wound on my arm stings and stretches, I realize he's stitched and bound it. I throw myself against the chains.  
  
"Oh relax, babe, I'll let you go in a minute."  
  
"I wouldn't if I were you." I snarl.  
  
"Do you realize that was an incredibly stupid thing to say, babe? I guess you're too upset for logic right now. But you'll bust out of those chains sooner or later, so there's no point letting you injure yourself. I just want you to listen to me."  
  
"I can't believe you did this just to-"  
  
"Well they don't have a couple's councillor available for teenage terrorists so I improvised, OK? Now shut up and listen, Heero."  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
For answer, he draws a key from his pocket and glances at the padlock keeping the chains fastened to the steel bed frame.  
  
I flex my arms, use my legs as leverage, and haul at the chains. The frame screams alarmingly. The chains might not give but it will. Duo rubs his nose and grins.  
  
"Guess I'll make it quick, then. OK. I got the gist of the argument you were having on the way back. You don't know if you screwed up or not, right?"  
  
/Analyse./  
  
I pause in my efforts to free myself. "I should have killed you." I growl.  
  
"No, that's just hindsight talking, babe. And a neurotoxin hangover. In Wing, the whole point of the argument was that you were not sure."  
  
"Hn." I jerk at the chains again. The bed frame gives a bit.  
  
"So you're going to run to Dr J and get him to torture you back into computer mind-mode so you can be sure again, right?"  
  
I glare at him. "This is my business, Maxwell!"  
  
I think I see him wince slightly, but he's still smiling. "Yes, it is, Heero. Which is why I won't interfere when I let you go. You can run home to the good doctor and get brainwashed to your heart's content and I won't peep. I just want to point something out to you first. And no, I'm not going to whine or embarrass you or anything, I just think there's something you overlooked."  
  
/Analyse?/  
  
"Explain." I'm curious despite myself.  
  
"Well, you were in doubt, babe. You didn't know which was the right course, because you didn't know enough to, er, compute it, right?"  
  
"So I should have eliminated one of the variables." I snap.  
  
/Confirmed!/  
  
"Hmmm, eliminated the variable. That's the good doctor talking if I'm not mistaken. Well as the variable in question, mind if I ask you something? How many innocents out there were similar variables in your equations?"  
  
The chain clanks as I stop pulling it. "What?"  
  
"OZ may think you're a stone cold killer, Yuy, in fact you make me kinda chilly too sometimes, but I've never seen you kill an innocent when you could possibly work around it, and I've seen you practically destroy yourself when you have. Aren't they just variables too?"  
  
"You're different. You're a Gundam pilot-"  
  
"And perfectly able and willing to give my life for the cause if I need to. But that's not what I asked, Heero. At that point I was a variable in an equation. Maybe a different kind of variable than those guys we knocked out in the lab, but still, part of your calculations. Does that cold little computer in your head really care about innocent victims? And when it doesn't, do you still listen to it?"  
  
He leans forwards into my silence, hand on his shoulder where the blood-stained bandage has not yet been changed.  
  
"Heero, one of the greatest things I admire about you, besides your absolute dedication, is your instinctive knowledge of right or wrong. Didn't you tell me it came from Odin? Something Dr J didn't have to pummel into you, apparently. Didn't Lowe tell you to follow your instincts, your emotions? And weren't your guts telling you that you could get us both out of that base in time, and that it had to be worth a try to save our Gundams?"  
  
"... Yes."  
  
"And if you'd had no other choice, would you have hesitated to kill me at that point?"  
  
"... No." I say, remembering the fallback objectives, the unquestioning certainty that I would have pulled the trigger on him without hesitation once I had run out of options.  
  
"Glad to hear it."  
  
/Negative. Control compromised./  
  
"But I wasn't in control. Normally I'm absolutely sure-... " I can't express to him how I think. I know we are very different in that way.  
  
"Yeah, I know. It was a close call, the whole base was about to crawl up your backside, the Gundams were wired to blow... talk about pressure. And then there was me. Didn't I maybe tip the scales a bit?"  
  
"... Yes." I hate to admit it, I shouldn't be influenced by outside events or people, but still, Duo's wish had visibly been to die.   
  
"Did it occur to you, in the midst of your meltdown, that though I'm normally a suave and brilliant guy-" I turn to glare at him "- I was also drugged up to my eyeballs at the time?"  
  
"... We are resistant to most-"  
  
"You are, Yuy! Me, I'm slightly more human. Sure, Dr G bumped up my resistance to a lot of things, but whatever they shot into my veins was obviously meant to bypass that."  
  
/Analyse... /  
  
"You're telling me your judgement was affected."  
  
"My judgement was way out over the rainbow and fast approaching the land of Oz, babe. No pun intended. Because I'm still too sore and woozy. I'll remember it for another day though, shall I?"  
  
"Please don't."  
  
"Whatever." His eyes are studies in exhausted black, pained red and bruised purple, his whole face almost distorted by injury and fatigue. I reluctantly admit that he's making some sense though.  
  
"So let's cut to the heart of the matter cause I want to go back to sleep and you want to get out of those chains.  
  
"Babe, since we've become partners and I don't mean an item, I mean before even that- I've seen you go through a lot of changes. I didn't say anything because I was afraid you'd freak on me, like you're doing now, but we've all noticed. You weren't designed to work with a team. You weren't designed to live closely with people, or a partner. You were designed to come down to earth like an avenging angel on the heels of operation meteor the real one, the original one- and subdue the survivors without pity or remorse. Well, looks like your design had a flaw right from the start cause you didn't do that. And you adapted to having us around, the team. And me.  
  
"You actually unbent enough to admit that being with me helped you learn stuff. About interacting with a partner and a lover- and interacting with the team, with people. It helped you become more efficient, you said, which is probably the nicest thing anyone's said to me since Maxwell church burned down."  
  
I was listening to him with all my attention, now I listen with something more as well. I know that he's said that because he's investing all his emotions into his words. He's still smiling but the jester's mask is like glass and he's letting me see straight through it.  
  
"The thing is, Dr J didn't design you for all this. So, what's happening? One of two things.   
  
"Either Dr J made a mistake, didn't hand you the tools you needed to survive, and you've managed to wing it anyway. Your training was going to break down sooner or later because you simply outgrew it.   
  
"Or he's a lot better than I give him credit for, and has given you the leeway to do what a computer cannot; reprogram yourself. Modify yourself, fight with yourself if you need to, when it comes down to the edge, but in essence, work around your conditioning to do what you think is right, not just what is perfect in cold, clinical terms.   
  
"Either way, you don't need to go back to J. Cause either the old coot doesn't know shit about you anymore, and will destroy whatever progress you've made because it won't conform to his image of what the perfect soldier is and in that case, his picture scares the shit out of me-, or else, well, or else you don't need him anymore, and it's time you started taking control over your own control.  
  
"Stop me if I'm not making sense. That last sentence aside." He adds in a mutter.  
  
/Analysing... Can this compute?/  
  
He stands up in a painful series of movements and limps over to me. He stops short as I twitch, body sensing danger while being restrained. He grimaces and tosses me the keys to the padlock. I grab them and twist towards it.  
  
"Well, that's that. I could keep you tied up all night, Heero, let you think it over, but you'd probably spend it trying to get free and strangle me. You might anyway. At this point, it'd be better than an aspirin, which is the only kind of painkiller we have besides morphine and I'd rather not go there. All I can say is, either stay here and think about it or go back. I think you already know which one you need to do, if I'm right about what Odin taught you. If not...   
  
"Then go back to Dr J, tell him all that you've done, your so-called failure, and then blow your brains out and let him install a mobile doll system in Wing, cause it won't be much fucking different."  
  
The chains clank as they fall to the floor. Duo stands near the door, leaning against the wall, face pinched with pain, staring at me, as if daring me to walk out on him now. I stare back. My decision has already been made.  
  
/Objective clear./  
  
I stand stiffly and head towards the door. His face hardens, but I can tell his resolve is crumbling. Not enough to stop me, not when he knows he's said all he could. Not when he knows he was right, the decision is mine, and if I leave, then there's nothing there that belongs to him. He stands away from the door stiffly to let me pass, eyes downcast and full of pain.  
  
"I'm getting the medical kit." I say, since there's no point in making him miserable. "You've obviously busted the stitches in your shoulder, and I don't want to think what you did to your leg getting in and out of Wing. Don't expect any morphine though, or even any aspirin. I owe you that much for gassing me with nerve agent."  
  
His smile is wide and his eyes are much more expressive still. "Payback? Geez, you may just be human after all." He takes a step towards me, lifts a hand carefully. I frown, I'm still angry, unsure, and really not in the mood for physical contact at this point. He merely picks something off my shoulder and steps back. "Run along then, I'll be waiting for you right here. In agony. Probably bleeding to death. From stitches I busted carrying your ass down from Wing and back to here. Yeah, on the brink of being toast. Shinigami about to meet his own maker-"  
  
"Duo, shut up." I close the door behind me. 


	6. Epilogue

(Duo's POV)  
  
The door closes behind the perfect soldier and I go to sit on the bed. Some people might call it collapsing, but I'm a hard-core Gundam pilot. We don't collapse. We just sit down a bit heavily.   
  
Well, you hypocrite, nice speech. Care to turn that mirror on yourself now?  
  
He's not figured it out. And... I don't think I can tell him.   
  
He's coming to terms that I may not be his weakness. I need to make sure he never realizes that for a moment he was mine.  
  
My gaze falls on what I'd picked from his shoulder.  
  
A couple of metal filings, caught in his t-shirt.  
  
I'm sorry, Heero. I wanted to die. It's that simple. God knows, I'm ready to fight and kill and kick the bucket for the colonies, and yes, if I need to, I'll even pull that trigger on you, love, and then go on fighting all the same. I would do it because I love you, because you would expect me to...   
  
The metal filings are from the bullet that hit the wall when neither of us expected it, before we'd even got to the harder part of the mission, when I wasn't even aware I could lose you.  
  
It was just so... random. So meaningless. A soldier is on this side of a pair of fire-doors instead of that side. You turn to talk to me and live, you ignore me like you often do and you die.  
  
I think of Solo, my former wall of strength, killed by chance and a stupid virus while a scrawny little brat like me survived.   
  
OK. So I was scared. Who's blaming me? Let that person try losing everything they've ever cared for and loved not once but twice and see how they like it.  
  
For just a few minutes, with the drugs lowering my barriers, it became so clear. I knew that pain intimately and it knew me, was waiting for me, but I wouldn't have to face it ever again if I was the one to die first...   
  
Heero has just found out that being in a relationship is a source of strength (oh, sorry, ‘efficiency') but also weakness. I already knew that, but I'd managed to forget it. We lead rather distracting lives.   
  
Well, I've hit the weakness, now I'll use the strength. I made him doubt himself. I think he knew, on some level, that I might have been drugged but I also think he knew that it wasn't just the chemicals talking. He took my weakness upon himself.  
  
He won't have to again.   
  
We have too much to fight for and live for.   
  
And if nothing else the war effort can't afford to lose two pilots. It can't afford Heero running off to get tortured by Dr J and it can't afford me running off to murder Dr J, and I will if he ever lays a finger on my perfect soldier ever again. The echoes of the argument Heero was having with his conditioning make me shudder, I can guess at some of the horrors that lay behind it.   
  
Heero closes the door behind himself and the medical kit. Was he really serious about the painkillers? Cause right now I'm feeling pretty sick of hurting. It gets old real fast.   
  
"You could have just left me in Wing's cockpit, you didn't have to drag me here, baka." Heero growls as he gently removes the bandage which, it feels, is the only thing keeping my shoulder from falling off.  
  
"Oh babe, you know I never lose an opportunity of tying you to the bed."  
  
He sniffs under his breath, examining my stitches.   
  
One day, Yuy, I'll make you laugh. One day, assuming of course we both survive hey look, I'm not on morphine and I'm still hallucinating- I'm going to teach you about the rest of the human thing, about reprogramming that computer you have in your head. No more cold equations for you, perfect soldier. You'll just have to muddle along like the rest of us.  
  
You'll see. We make mistakes, plenty. But Heero's hands are so gentle, his brow furrowed in concentration over my shoulder- it can be plenty wonderful too.  
  
end two percent  
  
(OK, I did warn people that deep under the violence and weirdness and all that, I'm something of a romantic? Someone shoot me, please.


End file.
